


Somewhere Between Pride and Envy

by Fangirlyra



Series: King!Bilbo AU [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crangst, King!Bilbo, M/M, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlyra/pseuds/Fangirlyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Thorin Oakenshield can't have a crush without angsting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Between Pride and Envy

**Author's Note:**

> A side story of [Baggins of The Shire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/688401), filling the blanks of the first three chapters from Thorin's POV.
> 
> Best read between Chapter 3 & 4
> 
> Beta-ed by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

From the first time Thorin saw the Hobbit in his nice home, he felt an irritation nagging in the back of his mind. This Burglar that Gandalf insisted that they would need was just a rich Hobbit that had never set foot in the outside world. The house and the furniture itself looked much older than the Hobbit which meant they were most likely family heirlooms. Even his riches are not from his own sweat, thought Thorin. But he had this air that reminded Thorin of the halls of Erebor in its glory. The other dwarves did not seem to notice but Thorin did and he hated it.

The next day, when the Hobbit didn’t show up at the inn on time, Thorin was more than happy to leave without him. Unfortunately, he caught up with them not long after they left the inn, all bright and bouncy still with that odd air around him (if Thorin didn’t knew better he would say grace). Travel will rid him of that haughty air, thought Thorin as he snorted and ordered the company to give the Halfling a pony.

To Thorin’s dismay, travel did not strip the air out of the Hobbit. He was clearly not used to road life, he was worn out, he had difficulty sleeping, but he kept up and it was still there. It was there in the spring in his steps, it was there in the grip of his hand on his walking rod, it was there in his stiff back while riding, it was never gone and it started to drive Thorin mad.

Then his nephews went and put the Hobbit (and the rest of them, by extension) into the mess with the trolls. The terrified look on the Halfling’s face as the trolls threatened to rip his arms off seared into Thorin’s mind. As much as Thorin hated whatever air the Hobbit had around him, he found that terrified look suited him even less. So he threw down his sword in frustration and let the entire company be captured.

Thorin was testing the knots around his hands, finding it hard to undo, when the Halfling got up and and tried to talk with the Trolls. What the hell is he thinking? It was not until the Halfling shouted in distress when the trolls picked Bombur up that Thorin realized what their Burglar was doing. He kicked Kili (a little bit harder than necessary because Thorin was a bit miffed he did not realize it sooner) to silence him.

But their situation took a turn for the worse despite the dwarves’ best efforts to convince their captors that they were inedible, and they were only saved by Gandalf sudden and dramatic intervention (even though it would have been better if he had came earlier). The company cheered and Thorin felt a smile creep on his face but quickly got rid of it before anyone could see. After he was untied he sought out Gandalf.

“Where did you go to, if I may ask?" asked Thorin to Gandalf.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied.

"And what brought you back?"

"Looking behind," said Gandalf as he looked at the rest of the company, “At least they are all in one piece.”

“No thanks to your Burglar,” sneered Thorin.

Gandalf gave him a rebuking look.

“He lured two of the trolls away, that’s more than any of you have done,” said Gandalf, “That’s more that what I have done.”

Thorin gave him a slight nod for Gandalf was right. But did this mean he had to thank the Halfling? The thought nagged in the back of his mind even as they explored the trolls’ cave. He had settled on ‘maybe’ when he saw the Hobbit waiting for him at the mouth of the cave.

“I’d like to thank you,” said the Halfling.

What? What for? thought Thorin incredulously.

“For not letting the trolls rip my arms off I suppose, I’m indebted to you.” said the Halfling again.

Did he just say that out loud? Hobbits are curious creatures, and this particular hobbit was very vexing. He had somehow sneaked past Thorin’s defences, and that unsettled him deeply. Thorin decided that this breach was unacceptable, so he told the Halfling to forget it and turned away, half hoping that some distance would bring him a measure of calm.

Thorin almost gave in to his desire to throttle the wizard when he realized that Gandalf had led them to Rivendell. But, again, Gandalf was right: they needed answers. He did not trust elves and he felt out of place in this place. The teasing song did nothing to help his mood. The Elf-Lord seemed to recognize him.

“You have your Grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain,” said he.

If you knew my Grandfather why you did not came to our aid? Thorin wanted to ask. But he did not because he already knew the answer: because Rivendell was too far from Erebor, because it was too late when the news reached here, and because Rivendell had no army. So instead Thorin said,

“Indeed, he made no mention of you.”

It was not technically a lie, his grandfather was too mad because of his sickness to mention anything to him. All of his knowledge came from his father who had taught him when he was young. The Elf-lord narrowed his eyes, ready to throw Thorin an insult. But he noticed the Halfling at that moment and lightened up immediately. Thorin bristled at that. Then the Halfling went and conversed with the Elf-lord with ease, sharing past occurrences and alliances like two neighbouring countries’ leaders. This made Thorin feel even more out of place.

That night, Thorin, with Gandalf’s insistence, showed the map to Lord Elrond. It turned out the Elf-lord could read the map and found the hidden moon-rune on it.

“We still have time to find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot exactly the right time. Then and only then, can the door be opened,” exclaimed Balin after Elrond finished reading out the moon runes.

Thorin cringed inwardly; for all of his optimism and enthusiasm, Balin had just disclosed their true intention in front of Elrond.

“So this is your purpose, to enter the mountain?” asked Elrond

“What of it?” Thorin replied defiantly, challenging Elrond to try to stop him.

“There are some who would not deem it wise,” Elrond replied.

Did he just call me a fool? Thorin grabbed the map and turned to go without saying anything more, Balin and the Halfling followed suit. They were walking toward their chambers when the Halfling piped up and said something against his behaviour. Thorin was still fuming and answered him with a snide remark. Thorin watched the Halfling’s expression, waiting for a scrunched shoulder or a hurt look on his face. But Thorin was rewarded with neither. Instead, the Halfling stood tall, his face icy, and his voice dripped with cold fury.

“If that’s how you treat every leader of races other than your own, Thorin son of Thrain, I wonder why your people haven’t perished in wars waged against you!”

Thorin felt like he was doused with cold water. He felt like a little dwarrow again, chastised by his father for disrupting an important meeting. He stared at the Halfling’s receding back and felt a turmoil of emotions inside him, most prominently shame and anger. He let the anger override the shame because why should a Dwarven King be ashamed after being chastised by a Halfling? If Thorin was honest with himself it would be because Bilbo was right, he had little reason to be hostile toward their host but yet he was.

Thorin told Balin not to tell anyone about the incident as they continued their journey. He watched when his nephews taught the Halfling how to wield his sword. He watched as awkward footwork and hesitated swings gradually changed to swift steps and smooth strikes. As the progress went, he also found that his mood got more and more sour, and the rest of the company not-so-discreetly avoided him. But whenever they talked to him it seemed to have something to do with the Halfling.

“Bilbo turned out to be quite the swordsman, don’t you think uncle?” asked Fili one day.

“Mister Baggins swordsmanship is still nowhere near any of us,” said Thorin in a gruff.

“I’m curious of Lord Elrond’s behaviour towards Master Baggins, I wonder if he was someone important in the Shire...” said Balin another day.

“Don’t dwell on it, it was probably nothing,” said Thorin curtly.

The road got steeper and the weather got harsher until one day they became trapped in the midst of a raging thunderstorm and a stone giants’ battle. Thorin felt his heart drop when he saw the stone Fili and the other half of the company were on collide with the mountainside. He rushed to find that all of them were safe, all except Bilbo Baggins. He looked down to see the Halfling trying fruitlessly to reach Bofur’s hand.

That terrified look again.

Thorin let out a frustrated grunt and jumped down to a notch on the cliff to haul the Halfling up, almost causing himself to fall. He would have if it were not for Dwalin’s hold on him. He was safe on the cliff when he heard Bofur’s relieved words and it set his teeth on edge. He felt something snap inside him and he lashed out at the burglar. And now there it was, hurt painted so vividly on the Halfling’s face.

Thorin forced himself to look away. He called for Dwalin to help him examine the small cave they found.

“What has our burglar done to you? Spat in your stew?” asked Dwalin jokingly.

Thorin just glared daggers at him.

Thorin was not surprised when the Hobbit packed up and tried to leave them that night nor he want to try to stop him. But when he apologized and thanked him again Thorin feel unsettled, like the very core of his foundation been shaken. He stared at the Halfling’s hunched back, unsure what to say and half hoping the earth would open up and swallow him.

His wish was granted: the earth opened up, swallowed the whole company, and down they fell right into a Goblin’s lair. They were stripped from their belongings and weapons and brought forth to the Goblin King who ordered them to be killed after he saw Orcist. Again, Gandalf saved them in a nick of time. They fought their way out and finally escaped in one piece.

All, that is, except Bilbo Baggins.

“Where is Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?” demanded Gandalf.

The company didn’t know, they murmured among themselves, shifting the blame to each other.

“I think I saw him slip away,” said Nori finally.

“What happened exactly? Tell me!”

So Thorin went and told Gandalf what exactly he thought had happened to the Hobbit. But of course, it was not what happened at all for the Hobbit popped out from behind a tree. The company was relieved and curious as how he got past the Goblins. Thorin didn’t care how, what he wanted to know was why.

When Bilbo stated the reason why he came back, Thorin finally recognized the air around him. It was pride, pride of his home and sense of belonging. Something Thorin had lost and longed to have back. Something that he hoped he could achieve from this mad journey. It wasn’t hatred after all that Thorin felt toward Bilbo: it was envy.

Howls of wargs disrupted Thorin’s epiphany and sent the company running. Then Thorin saw him, the ghost of his past, still very much alive.

“It can’t be.” Disbelief, grief, and rage ran rampant inside him.

And when the last tree fell and his nephews struggled to maintain their slipping grips, he lost it. He took his sword and charged. But wars were not won by rage and desperation, and soon Thorin was overpowered and fell. Thorin watched in despair as the pale Orc dismounted his warg and come to him to make good on his promise to break the line of Durin.

But as Azog raised his mace to end him, the Halfling jumped and struck against the Defiler. Bilbo was bright, gleaming with pride. What has become of me? Thorin son of Thrain, heir to the throne under the mountain, envious of a little Halfling? The words of the Goblin King echoed back in his mind. Right, because I’m nobody really... and Thorin lost consciousness.


End file.
